Standing in the early morning light, the spring air felt good. He reminded himself that he was excited about some of the meetings he had scheduled. He was flying to close a potentially large customer account after months of contract negotiations. The meetings would last all day, but he would still be on a same-day flight back home afterward.
Why, he wondered, couldn't he just be happy with his job? There was nothing wrong on the face of it, yet he would find himself in these moments feeling like he wasn't himself, like he was wearing a borrowed suit that he could look down and have contempt for. He was familiar with this old fleeting, critical voices in his head, and he knew it would pass.
The black Prius pulled up on cue. Matt looked at his app and saw this must be Cedric. A Black man about his age with a big smile and full dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail, Cedric matched closely his photo in the app.
“Cedric?” Matt said.
“You must be Matt,” the driver turned a glance and answered.
“Yep – good morning.” And with that Matt slipped into the backseat and settled into the 30-minute ride to the airport.
Matt's preference in these all-too-familiar Lyft rides to the airport was never to speak. The older he got, the more he hated the smalltalk, particularly with strangers. He would actually get a tinge of anxiety if the driver had compliments for “great conversationalist.” He could be irritable at the prospect of the stranger in the airplane seat next to him wanting to chat him up, find some commonality that didn't really matter (“What a small world!! We both have relatives in Sacramento…”). He grabbed his phone and opened up some of his favorite blogs. He was an avid consumer of all things politics as well as outdoor adventure related. It was a private joy of his – nothing that matched his exterior: “Matt Carney, Finance Consultant, Tax & Audit.” It was as though his brain had this extraordinary reservoir for remembering political races as well as hiking trails in far off places that he wanted to explore. Some, most of his guy friends, dove into sports or maybe military history or international current events. Not Matt – he had no interest in those things in spite of his time in uniform. Fleeting references about some congressional campaign scandal in a neighboring state or nuanced drama playing out between cabinet secretaries would stick, and later be researched by him, as would some piece of new-to-the-market camping gear the he needed to have in spite of rarely camping these days.
Growing up in Chesterton, Indiana, there weren't a lot of outlets for political engagement though he had lots of time exploring the Indiana Dunes and other national parks. Joining the Army, if nothing else, was a test to himself that if this idea of patriotism and physical endurance is real, then put your money where your mouth is and join, which is what he did. He later would wonder how sincere this idea of patriotism could be, or whether it was just some unexpressed youthful need for fulfillment and purpose. Regardless, he had felt something, and it had driven him to make decisions that other kids weren't making.
He had tried debate and was okay but not great. Student government seemed to be more his thing. It dawned on him that he liked to be popular and productive more than controversial and opinionated. Planning a school fundraiser was a better feat than winning an argument at some debate tournament. He peaked at class vice president, but that felt like a big deal.
Matt was charming, or at least had been more so, and he could be funny. He wasn't the biggest personality in the room, but he could hold his own and generally speaking people liked him, thought he had interesting things to say, and was good looking enough to not be wholly ignored at school functions, at bars, and on the dating scene, however brief that had been for him.
Regardless of the time that had passed, and never mind the fact that high school was a distant memory and that his current job as a tax accountant had nothing ostensibly to do with politics or outdoor adventure, he was still an aficionado at both. He scrolled Politico as well as the Chicago Tribune gathering the headlines.
“So, where are you headed today?” the Lyft driver asked.
And here we go, Matt thought to himself. Here goes my peace and quiet by some Lyft driver who wants to chat. “Cincinnati.”
“That's what's up. For business?”
“Yes.” Matt made his answer short, intentionally.
His driver, Cedric, seemed to get the message. He offered a furtive glance in the rearview mirror, but otherwise sat looking straight ahead as he made his way down the street.
Matt felt a pang of self-loathing. I'm such a jerk, he thought to himself. What's wrong with people wanting to be nice in the world? Why do I always have these hostile reactions? To redeem himself he thought he would perk up and offer a friendly olive branch. “Nice car – how long have you been driving for Lyft?”
“About a few months or so. The car is about a year old. I enjoy it, though – plus I get to meet new people, like you.”
Matt sensed the compliment was a throwaway line, but however disingenuous it might be, it still felt good to hear.
“So,” the driver picked back up, “I suspect you must travel a lot for work?”
“Yeah,” Matt offered, “almost every week.”
“I know that gets tiring. So what do you do for a living?”
“I work in finance.”
“Really? What kind of finance? Are you in-house or a consultant?”
Matt was a little surprised by the specificity of the question. “I'm a consultant.”
“Nice. What's your specialty? Tax and Audit, corporate finance, banking, or…”
Huh, Matt chuckled to himself, this Lyft driver apparently knows his stuff. “Well, tax and audit. I work mostly on transactions. You seem to have a pretty good knowledge about finance.”
“Not really, I just meet a lot of finance people driving Lyft. I'm able to pick up a little of the lingo here and there, nothing too crazy. You know, learn some of the language, just enough to hold my own…I assume that you must work for a big firm, huh?
“Well, I don't know if it's a big firm – more of a small-to-medium-sized firm. We have about 200 people on our team.”
“Interesting….”
Is it really, Cedric? Matt thought to himself. Why would that be interesting to you, a Lyft driver?
“So let me get this straight. If everyone is traveling all the time, how do you get to know your colleagues?” An interesting, if odd, question, Matt thought. “Well…it can be a challenge. The firm is only about 15 years old, and we've almost doubled in size the last five years, so I think it used to be easier than it is today.”
“Does your company offer corporate retreats or team building opportunities of some sort?”
Matt thought about the question. “You know it's been a few years since we did a retreat. We used to do them more regularly, but it's been a couple years.”
“Really? Why's that?”
“I think we just haven't prioritized it. It's hard to get the leadership team away for a couple days.”
“On average, how much does your firm spend for a retreat?”
Matt felt it was an odd question, something of a non sequitur, but weirdly enough he knew the answer because he had been tasked, as one of the younger partners, with putting the plan together. “Well, one year we did a dinner at our chairman's house. We rented a nearby house and went all-in with catering, etcetera, spent about $20,000. That was actually cheaper than years prior when we had spent about $30K to $40K bringing the 20 partners and their spouses out to an out-of-town hotel destination or retreat center. It really depended on the venue. We usually mixed it up each year.”
“That's not bad…” the Lyft driver paused, as if to still be running the numbers in his head. “About how long does a typical retreat last? I'm assuming you usually conduct them over a weekend, so around 2 to 3 days or so?” Again, this guy and his questions, Matt thought to himself. I don't get how we got on this topic or why he has these questions. “Well, usually two nights away is about as much as we can get people to commit to. And weekends are hard. Our team has usually preferred a Wednesday and Thursday night because they don't want to spend time away from their kids. And logistically it's hard if you want spouses to come as well because then you need to arrange for babysitting.”
“That makes sense. Most people don't want to give up their weekends for a work retreat.” Cedric offered in response, keeping his eyes on the road. For the moment Cedric receded from the conversation, sensing Matt was in his phone and uninterested in continuing the dialogue. He had seen those signals before and knew when to relent.
“Look. I know you're a busy guy and you probably have a lot on your mind as it is. I didn't mean to bother you,” Cedric offered sympathetically.
Matt, hearing the apology and even sensing it might be rehearsed nevertheless felt compelled by it, and aware of his own passing disinterest in a well-intentioned driver. “No, not a problem at all…I appreciate your curiosity.”
“Okay. One last thing.” Cedric grabbed the opening. “What other venues have you looked at locally for your corporate retreats?”
Matt, by now accustomed to the specificity of Cedric's line of questioning, relented without even knowing what was driving this conversation. “Well…like I said, it's been a couple years but at the time we looked at an old corporate campus run by McDonald's in Oak Brooke that's been converted into a corporate retreat center, and then also Kohler Spa, which is up in Wisconsin. And then there was actually some facility at Northwestern that hosts programs…and then beyond that I think we just looked at some large mansions and houses available for hire.”
“Got it…Thanks for the insight. I really appreciate it,” Cedric allowed, leaving Matt to finish his ride in peace and quiet.
After another 10 minutes Matt looked up from his phone and saw that they were approaching the O'Hare airport exit ramp. The sun was beginning to rise, and he could see the active tarmac of planes getting ready to move thousands of business travelers.
The car drove into the airport and approached Terminal 1. “Well,” Cedric said, “Here we are. I've really appreciated the conversation and hope your meetings go well today in Cincinnati. If I can ever do anything for you, you know how to get a hold of me. And with that Cedric extended himself for a handshake over the front seat.
“Yes,” Matt returned, “thank you as well.” The conversation, while undoubtedly well intended, was nonetheless a distraction for Matt, who didn't like to chit chat with strangers. He could feel himself in these moments being irritated but tried to pull himself back from that. Matt jumped out of the car, and while he normally didn't tip above 10% nonetheless felt an empathy for the driver's eagerness and decided to tip him 20%. Matt waved and slipped through the sliding doors into Terminal 1, where he did the familiar shuffle alongside the business flying masses to the gate that he had done at least dozens, maybe hundreds of times before.